Transmission
by It'sTimeToDance
Summary: A radio transmission is sent out from a Titan communicator one night. Crossover with Batman and the Justice League. T for violence and the like.
1. prologue: transmission

"Well I could call out when the going gets tough, the things that we've learnt are no longer enough." _**Transmission, **_**Joy Division**

* * *

Cyborg was woken by the sudden sound of beeping beside his charger. He stretched slightly, his joints stiff and clunky. He thought of the shiny new medal he'd seen on his last trip to the hardware store with longing, imagining himself sleek and new, slimmer, agile, less…blue.

The red blinking of his communicator ripped him from his thoughts. The tower was silent, his teammates presumably sleeping soundly in their rooms. Except for Robin. Robin was…out. It wasn't official, it never was; no one had even acknowledged the existence of the kid's midnight escapades even though they were painfully obvious to anyone who didn't go to sleep until after one in the morning. That is to say, all of them.

So Cyborg was quick to respond, expecting some sort Slade-related emergency-the only reason Robin would conceivably call for…anything. Anything at all.

Instead, he got a message.

* * *

It wasn't Jim Gordon's idea to intersect all radio transmissions sent towards the Batcave.

The last mayor, his term so quick Jim couldn't even be bothered to remember his name, thought it best to be able to catch any potential action by Batman's affiliates in order to, quote, "be on the top of their (being the Gotham Police Department) game." Considering two thirds of the uniforms were corrupt-including, no doubt, the aforementioned mayor-this was indeed convenient for everyone who _wasn't_ Batman.

But there Jim was, listening to static become words, urgent, small little words spoken by a weak yet determined voice pushing on through a dying signal. Shaking the radio, shifting it this way and that in an attempt to make the voice stronger, more prominent. He could hear it, just barely, the familiar drawl of a man-no, a boy-losing blood.

Jim waved his arm out behind him, beckoning one of the burgeoning officers towards the bulky tape recorder. "Someone record this."

As soon as the hiss of the recorder was through, Jim snatched it in his hand and made towards the roof.

* * *

Batman was a shadow beneath the overwhelming beam of the Bat-signal, leaping onto the roof of the police station and into a crouch, rising swiftly before the Commissioner Gordon.

Before he could say a word, Gordon tossed the recording towards Batman. "We intersected this message from your radio."

One thin eyebrow was raised in response.

* * *

"Hello, Alfred."

"Why Superman, do what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We've received a…signal. It was sent from one of the Titan's communicators. We were able to nullify the static enough to produce a transcript."

"It's processing now."

"We can't be sure how legitimate it is-is Batman there?"

"I'm afraid he's on patrol for the remainder of the evening-"

(…)

"Oh, my."

* * *

The first thing Robin saw was grey. Dark, deep gray, glistening off the dull gleam a single light bulb produced. He was in a room, with four walls and a door and a chair (which he was not sitting in.) Like an interrogation room. Like a prison.

His communicator is still in his belt. He does not consider this luck, for anyone smart enough to successfully apprehend a multiple-martial arts champion would only leave something so crucial purposely. It was a taunt. It was a joke.

And he knew.

Not where he was, not who he was with or how he got there, in that prison. But he knew.

He reached his tied hands towards his belt.

* * *

_This is Robin. Please respond._

_Calling all Titans. East. West. _

_Please come in._

_Calling the Watch Tower._

_Calling Batcave._

_Please respond._

_Please._

* * *

In a place called Jump City, where the crime was trivial and the streets were clean, there were allies. Not menacing as were it's neighbors. Well lit, rather barren allies. In one of these allies, beside a compacted motorcycle and dented, bird shaped chip of metal, was a card.

On the card, below the purple _**J**_, were the blood-red words;

_**Isn't**_

_**this**_

_**funny?**_

* * *

**A/N Well, we'll see where this goes.**


	2. one REVISED

**Author's Note: I haven't even finished chapter three and I'm already rewriting this one. Note: added tension between Raven and Cyborg. **

* * *

"Maybe he dropped it somewhere and some kids got to it…"

"Why would they call Batman? Or the League?"

"Why would _Robin_?"

Raven and Cyborg leaned over the super-computer thoughtfully, watching the written translation of the static-filled message fill the screen. Cyborg painstakingly fiddled with the audio bar, zeroing in on the voice recording, trying to find proof that the plea was-or was not-from their leader. As far as he could tell, it could go either way. And it wasn't like Robin had the most distinctive voice.

Starfire flew through the open window, landing gently beside Raven's hunched form with green, sunken eyes. "I have searched the entire city," she said. "All I've found is his…motorcycle."

Cyborg squared his jaw, looking back at the transcript and then Raven, with whom he exchanged a glance that could have said a lot of things, things neither could verbalize. Voicing concerns, they had come to learn, made them very real.

"How's it comin', Beast Boy?" Cyborg barked quickly into his communicator, waiting only a beat for the reply.

"Dude, I've already been in and out of this city three times."

Raven ducked her head until she was obscured by shadows, taking hold of Cyborg's wrist and hissing into it, "Head back to the Tower."

"How do you-"

Cyborg yanked his arm back. "Keep looking, BB. We'll find him."

Raven's eyes blazed suddenly, taking back Cyborg's arm with surprising strength. "Back to the Tower if you want to keep your ribs in your chest."

"_Beast Boy_," Cyborg barked.

"Uh…" Beast Boy stuttered. "I'll, um, be there in five." A click, and he was gone.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Cyborg demanded, pulling his arm haughtily back to his chest, caressing it as though Raven had burned the thick metal.

"If Robin was in this city we would have found him by now," Raven said shortly. "There's no use chasing pavements."

"You don't _know_ that, Raven," he replied, dark eyes gleaming. "And even if you did, it'd be fucking _great_ if you ran it by somebody 'fore you start throwin' bitch fits all over this place."

"I _thought_ it'd be obvious, or is your brain too rusted to process common sense?"

"Please, friends, let us not fight," Starfire offered weakly, stepping in between the two. "Perhaps Robin is…visiting the Titans East?"

"Do you really think he would just drop by in the middle of the damn night?" Raven hissed. "Do any of you think _at all_? If he was anywhere near Jump, I would have known. I would have _felt_ him." She found herself pacing, around the poorly lit room, finally letting herself face the reality of where she was and just how empty her head had been since she woke up that morning. Ever since she had pried into his mind, Robin had been a constant presence. A warmness the happier he was, a frigid chill when he was more then a few dozen paces away. She was like his mood ring, her mood colored by whatever condition their leader was in that day.

"So then where could he be?" Cyborg said. "If you can't feel him, how far does that put him?"

"I don't know. Too far to be an accident. He either left town," she paused. "Or someone took him."

There was a moment's pause.

Cyborg shifted on his massive heal, crossing his arms and looking around the room, the computer, as if they had the meaning of life printed on their surface. "Are you saying he was kidnapped?"

Raven's teeth grazed the inside of her mouth and the frustration she had felt only moments ago dissolved as Cyborg's demeanor had, leaving her bitter and unsure. "Not…necessarily."

"So he ran off?"

"_No_," she snapped. "Of course not. He wouldn't. I mean, it's…it's unlikely."

Cyborg's bulky arms fell back to his side, fist clenching, red eye blinking slightly. "So what? He melted? Turned into water and ran downhill? It's one or the other-Jesus, why are we even asking you? It's not like you're the fucking expert of all things Boy Wonder or nothing'-"

Starfire attempted to intervene, "Friends-"

"Look," Raven growled, leaning over and resting her palms on the flat end of the keypad. "All I'm saying is that there's only two ways he could have gotten that far our of my senses. And…" She bit her lip. "If, _if_, it was…forcibly, then we can't waste all our time circling the same five blocks."

Cyborg's face smoothed out, suddenly looking much older then his nineteen-or-so years. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, until a squawking sounded from the living room. A heavy thump followed, then the sound of Beast Boy's own high pitched whine growing closer until he appeared before the three, covered in a brown grime and soaked below the waist.

"He wasn't even in that dojo he lives at," he barked. "I swam in the sewers and everything. Do you _know_ what type of crap is down there?"

"My heart bleeds for you," Raven muttered. She turned around, silently took in each of her teammates while, equally as silent, determining _she_ would be the one taking charge over this case. Despite Cyborg's best efforts, despite his status among the team, he couldn't think without bargaining, without setting aside his personal qualms long enough to conceive reasonable solutions to even the most basic of problems. She had been prepared to let him take charge, in hindsight. She would have been happy letting anyone else make the decisions yesterday. But, for some reason, Robin was too much to lose because of an overtly sensitive half-robot.

Turning away and gliding back to the computers, she ordered. "Send the message back out. To everyone. Tell them to scope the surrounding areas. Tell them this is not a game." Slouching over, her fingers flying furiously over the keyboard, she fiddled with the computer until the audio was once again whispering through the surround sound speakers. Even stripped of static the voice on the other end was faint, cracking; whether from bad reception or otherwise, they couldn't be sure.

"Titans…please come in…_please_."

* * *

Alfred was reading over the transcript for the umpteenth time when the Batmobile roared back into it's place beside the looming computer. He quickly ripped the paper from the printer and readied himself for what surely would be another week-long, relentless research period that Bruce Wayne seemed to be famous for.

But Batman walked right past Alfred as he clamored out of the car, cape flying behind him as he marched towards the computer and almost immediately clicked on the audio. Alfred stood, stunned, with the paper in his hand.

"Master Bruce?"

"The police department have been interfering with my signals," he said gruffly. "They got the message before I did. I should have traced it. I should have realized."

"Do you believe it's actually from…?"

"It was his communicator," he replied, clicking at the several keyboards before him. "No one but he and his team could have worked it, let alone send a trans-national radio message. Its too advanced."

"Perhaps," Alfred suggested, "he simply crashed that motorbike of his? He always was something of a thrill-seeker.

"I know him," Batman snapped, looking up momentarily at Alfred's reflection on the computer monitor. "He wouldn't make that type of mistake. Even if he did, Alfred…" An uncharacteristic pause struck the shadowed man's voice, an uncertainty that sent shock waves through Alfred's spine. "He wouldn't have called for me. He wouldn't have asked for help unless he had to. Not after…" His cowl became a blur as he ducked it, shook it slightly. "No, no. This is not right."

Alfred said nothing.

* * *

Bumblebee turned the volume up on the TV, a race against the ever increasing volume of Speedy's maniacal laughter as Mas y Menos continuously toppled over one another. Interestingly, they had yet to notice the anti-grab gel Speedy had applied to the bottom of each other their boots. Bumblebee wondered silently if there was some sort of exam that should be taken in order to wear any costume at all. Probably.

"Will you _shut up_?" Bumblebee moaned, flipping the channel into some kind of sports event. "I was up _all freaking night_ with case files and-"

Aqualad's voice could be heard from the computer room, shouting. "We have an incoming message from West. Sounds urgent and Speedy, are you putting that crap on their feet again?"

Mas gave into defeat, sliding from his brothers shoulders and pulling his foot up to his nose. His eyes furrowed, as did Menos, and they both exploded into violent outbursts of Spanish curses, chattering furiously at the giggling Speedy as he and Bumblebee went on towards the computer. They fumbled to their feet and were only able to keep at a pace if they held onto each other's hands and skated down the hall. By the time they were all settled in front of the large screen, Raven's grave face was already glaring down at them.

"What can we do y'for, good buddy?" Speedy asked casually, sitting heavily on the rolling chair and leaning his arms behind his head.

"Hola, Raven," the twins added, waving from below the key deck, though their elbows hardly reached the screen.

Bumblebee pushed Speedy out of the chair and rolled her eyes, rubbing her forehead in frustration. "What's up in the West, Ray?"

"Robin's missing," she said bluntly.

Silence withheld the small room.

"What?" Aqualad scoffed.

"We don't know much, but he disappeared last night while on patrol. We haven't been able to get through to him. Have you received any radio transmissions from his communicator?"

"I-" Jinx started. "I mean, we did, but it was all static-I thought he was just butt dialing or something."

"It was sent to all Titans affiliates at approximately two thirty last night." They saw her duck her head, the sound of her typing filling the speakers. "I'm sending you the stripped audio. Pass it along to all honorary members, anyone in surrounding areas. Our computers haven't been able to trace where it originated, but we need as many on the street as we can until we zero in on his location."

"'Course," Jinx said. "But are you sure it's him? I couldn't even hear a clear voice when I-"

"It's him," Raven interrupted. "His motorcycle crashed outside an alleyway on 1st. Check for clues and call me if you see anything."

Before they could respond, the screen black out but for a small download bar in the corner informing them the audio file had been successfully transferred.

* * *

Jericho strode along the streets of Jump City , eyes scanning the early morning crowds without meeting any others. He caught sight of a street sign and he knew this was it, it was here. Raven had said 1st. An alley on first.

Sure enough, a red and black hunk of metal greeted him as he turned the corner. The police hadn't even arrived yet, leaving the somehow fragile looking scene open and vulnerable to passersby's. For some reason the entire idea of it felt juxtaposed along with the civility, the normalcy of Jump City's residents. There should be a blockade of police tape around it, guarded by their burliest of Titans. Something like this, it should be serious.

Yet Jericho was the first person there.

He approached the bike carefully, placing a gloved hand along the familiar husk and down the limp wheel. Untreatable, really.

But that's not what he was looking for.

He glanced at the skid marks, forming in the middle of the street and slightly slanting until a sudden sharp turn. Scuff marks indicate the bike rolled over five feet before finally stopping in front of the alley.

Jericho looked up, and then across the street. There was a fire hydrant, a street lamp and a post office. Not even any cars, not even any people. Empty. Unusually so.

His eyes trailed down, across the way from the lamp until landing once again at the skid marks. A straight line, from the street to the alley.

Squinting at the rising sun, Jericho leaned down and glared closely at the marks. It was as though something had guided the crash, like bumpers in a kid's bowling alley. He looked back up, at the hydrant, the lamp, the post office. Back at the lamp. Then back to his side of the street. Then beside him. A street lamp.

Jericho shifted his weight, stood and placed a gentle hand against the metal. He felt around it, looking for abrasions are scuffs, kneeling farther down until he saw a paper thin half-circular ring around the pole, black like tar excess. Low enough to the street that whatever had made it probably would have been invisible to the naked eye.

He stood and ran across the street, towards the other lamp. He repeated the inspection, greeted with the same results.

A wire. A string. Thin as thread, but strong enough to snag when a small motorbike rode into it, strong enough to trip it up, suddenly alter the bike's direction and send it tumbling towards an alleyway.

Thoughtfully, Jericho stalked back across the street, even as cars screeched to a halt on either side of him. Nevermind that he and his teammates-were they really? He could never tell-probably saved their asses more times then they cared to remember. Jericho was making them point three seconds late for work. He was Satan. Obviously.

Once he reached the bike again, in a daze, piecing an entire elaborate plot together in his head, he caught site of something shockingly red.

He turned his head slightly and he saw it, so brash, so obscene Jericho wondered how anyone could miss it.

A Joker card, scribbled with blood.

_**Isn't**_

_**this**_

_**funny?**_

* * *

Barbara Gordon's keys jingled as she fiddled with her car door. Only days earlier, on her eighteenth birthday, she had been greeted by it's shiny exterior and seemingly brand new engine. And then her father had dropped the bomb; "Yeah, we fixed up the old station wagon for you."

It was like being shot in the face.

She bashed her hip against the end of the key, trying to force it into the handle to no avail. Stupid shiny piece of shit.

Her cell phone-no, her other line-vibrated audibly from her purse. She grunted, left the key chain dangling from the door and fumbled in her bag until she rose, victorious, her bat-phone-thing in hand. Looking up at the windows of her home, she cautiously opened the lid and glanced inside the small screen, now filled with the image of a scowling (what else?) Batman, surrounded by artificial light a blinking curser stationed beside his head.

"I need you," he said.

Barbara sighed, rubbing her eyebrow wearily. "Look, Bats, I got an exam in, like, five minutes-can this wait?"

"It's Dick."

She froze, paused, looking back up at her house, her father's office window, his empty parking space, the empty air between her car and the rusted, ill-advised old basketball net someone had installed in the driveway years before. Her mouth opened for a response, and then closed, finding none of her vocabulary adequate in verbalizing her confusion, her sudden, heart wrenching terror.

"I'll, um," she cleared her throat, leaning back against the stupid-shitty-ass car. "Be there in ten."

* * *

Superman had never considered himself a brooding figure. Thoughtful, perhaps, but never brooding. It created a sense of unavailability, intimidation he didn't feel projected the type of image he was going for in his pursuits of justice. He left it to Batman, Martian, even Wonder Woman on a rare occasion. But never had he felt the want nor need to sit in his corner and _brood_.

Yet there he was, brooding.

"Heading back to the Tower," Flash's voice buzzed through the computer speaker. "Took care of those creeps in DC for ya. Hey, is Supes on the line?"

J'onn's voice creeped in, "He's in a meeting."

"'Cause we're trying to forward these weird-ass static messages to him but all his computers are down-"

"He's well aware of the messages and he is handling them to the best of his ability."

"Lantern traced 'em back to Jump City. One of the Titan kids' communicators-"

Superman sighed and pressed a button signaling him into the conversation, grunting, "I assure you, Wally, I have it under control."

"-I'm just saying, it keeps getting resent from their tower. I tried calling Kid about it but, literally, every one of those kids' lines are frozen. Like they're all calling each other at one time."

"I'll explain it when you and Lantern get back, alright? But right now it isn't a top priority."

"Fine, fine. Shit," Flash relented and finally his end went blank, leaving only Superman and Martian Manhunter on the line.

"I attempted a trace back for the original signal, but it's been mixed in with the orbiting satellites. I'd need to be in closer proximity to where the first transmission was sent," J'onn said off-handedly.

Superman frowned at the map on his computer, blinking red from all the crime taking place in a condensed area of California. "Worry about it when the Titans directly contact us. Like I said, it's not priority."

He could almost see the frown in J'onn's voice, "It's uncommon for you to regard anything as something other then a priority."

"I trust that the team can handle themselves."

Pause. "You've read the transcript, correct?"

"Yes."

"You've passed it along to Batman?"

"Alfred, specifically, but yes."

"You are aware what this type of message could provoke, correct?"

"Yes, I'm aware."

Another pause. "I will wait until your order to proceed."

Superman nodded to himself. "Thank you."

The line buzzed out.

* * *

Robin felt dirty cuts throb at his side, a slight draft reminding him that the entire half of his costume was torn to shreds. He felt vulnerable, with his hands tied and his face swollen, pussy wounds greeting his bleary vision as he wavered in and out of consciousness. His head pounded wildly to the extent that he couldn't even concern himself with the dying battery in his communicator, his surroundings, the nature of his predicament. It was all a haze, all the solid things in the world compacting themselves into the floor beneath him, the only thing keeping him centered with reality.

A distant figure caught his attention, on the other side of the world, doubling, tripling. Blurry, black but for occasional slashes of gold, green and white and red. It spoke in a language he did not understand.

"_Well," _it said. "Well, _well. _Aren't you just a sight for sore eyes?"

Robin's eyes peeled open, slowly, stiffly. And all he could see was a smiling clown.

He couldn't scream.


	3. two: there will be blood

**Author's Note: Please not that I had revised the chapter before this one so it sucks a little less. Some pretty significant changes were made, especially the conversation between Cyborg and Raven, so I'd highly suggest going back and reading it again if you want this one to make a smidge more sense.**

There had been a road.

The front tire of his bike spun into a blur, speeding down the concrete, wind stabbing at his skin like a thousand needles. He was chasing something, something bad something _fast_. He floated, he flew. He was air.

And then, the tire caught.

He couldn't see on what-all he could see was open road-but he caught. Tipping haphazardly forward, jerking to the right, instinctively clutching at both the gas and the break, skidding, lower and lower until he felt his side ripping against the burning pavement. His legs jerked, pushing the bike from under him and the two parted ways, Robin to the left, flipping and tumbling until he was coated by the endless black of the alley.

It was only the sound of the wheels spinning, his panting breaths. His eyes watered behind the mask, his arms quivered when he tried to lift himself, only to fall back (heavily) on his battered torso. He couldn't think. He couldn't remember what he was looking for.

He was not alone.

And then he was in a room.

Breath against his ear, warm and rancid. He could hear the smile, the complete glee in the breath, the voice that followed.

"Long time no see, Robby."

He couldn't scream.

o.O

Starfire landed softly on the pavement, beside the totaled bike and the growing crowd of onlookers, held back only by a roll of counterfeit police tape she knew Bumblebee carried with her. Whispers, paranoid and excited and terrified, washed over her as soon as she landed. She felt chills run up her arms. She could not recall why she had voluntarily left the computer room in favor of the ruins she had already studied seven times before the sun had come up. Perhaps it was the suffocating tension between Raven and Cyborg, butting heads, fighting to take control of a situation neither had a grasp on. She decided it was only fair for Beast Boy to bear the brunt of their anger for the time being. But the thought of them, the two she could constantly rely on to be exactly as they were, was disturbing enough to keep her appropriately irritable.

"Starfire!" she heard Aqualad call from the entrance of the alley. She caught sight of his skin tight diving suit, in clear contrast to the crowd's drab office wear. A final shove sent him stumbling into the open. "Where's the rest of your team?"

"They are searching," she said. "Raven has informed me you've…found something?"

Aqualad shrugged back towards the crowd. "Not me, Jericho."

Starfire raised an eyebrow. "Jericho?"

He nodded. "He was first on the scene. Said there was a trip wire on the two light poles that kind of…propelled the crash towards the alley. And then there's the…here, take a look." He gestured for her to follow him, taking her wrist and guiding her towards the tape.

Jericho was the first thing she saw, partly blocking the hunk of metal from view. He was kneeling over, his short mop of blonde hair jostling in the light breeze. Surrounded by onlookers, he reminded Starfire of the crime scene investigators in those shows Cyborg loved.

As the two approached, Jericho jerked a bit and turned towards them while still in a crouch. Starfire wondered if this was his hyper-sensitive ears at play or the paranoia that usually followed the disappearance of one of their own. Or, perhaps, something different entirely. She never knew with Jericho.

Aqualad waved at what was in front of him as Jericho stood up, backing away to allow Starfire a better view. She stepped forward.

"It's kind of weird," Aqualad added. "From the looks of the bike, you'd think there be blood or something, bits of metal…but there's nothing. Like someone scrubbed everything clean…"

"What is this?" Starfire asked, motioning at the pavement. A square, paper thin and bright with red lettering, stood out on the black pavement. It looked as though it had been unceremoniously tossed beside the bike, splattered with dark red letters. The symbols were unfamiliar to her, not part of any language she knew.

"What?" Aqualad took the card from her and stared.

"Oh," he said quietly. "Oh, no."

**A/N I kind of feel like Jericho is **_**way**_** more interesting then the show let on and it was a totally bogus move not mentioning his relation to Slade. So he will be featured prominently. This is more of a challenge to myself, seeing as my characterization relies pretty much solely on dialogue and, um, he's mute. **

**PS I'm totally regretting posting this story so quick because I literally just typed something up in three seconds and was like, "Hmm, TO FANFICTION!" so I had no idea what it was going to be. Luckily, I've come up with a few key moments in my head that will hopefully get this shit through until a coherent plotline can be created. Which is unlikely. Because 'coherent' is not in my vocabulary. Seriously, I just spelt it wrong, like, five times. **

**PPS (Or PSS? I could never figure it out.) I know I'm kind of biting more then I can chew, what with all these intersecting relationships, two major villains with complicated histories with the protagonists, the whole Raven/Robin mindfuck thing (not romance or anything, but you know) and some other weird ass pairings I've conceived in my daily attempts at procrastination (summer assignments, you kill me) but I feel like there's no conceivable way I can be Thoroughly Awesome (as is my life goal) without writing up a totally complicated story that **_**works**_**, in it's own special way. So bear with me, dear readers. It will be bumpy and it **_**will**_** be painful.**

**(This author's note might very well be longer then the chapter…)**


End file.
